


just listen (i don't ask for much)

by undercovermockingbird



Category: Avengers (Comics), Marvel, Marvel 616
Genre: Angst, Brother Feels, Character Study, F/M, No Character Death, POV Clint Barton
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-10
Updated: 2014-02-10
Packaged: 2018-01-11 21:38:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1178212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/undercovermockingbird/pseuds/undercovermockingbird
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint Barton character study.</p><p>Over and over, the song in his head keeps playing. He sees a pattern in his life that won't stop repeating.</p><p>(Title from Luck by American Authors)</p>
            </blockquote>





	just listen (i don't ask for much)

Sometimes he laughs.

In his life, there are moments when he is truly, unconditionally happy. They are rare and he holds onto each one tightly in his heart, where he stores them away in a small box. Inside, there are memories of his childhood, of his mother buying him a piece of candy for Christmas and Barney holding his hand as they play in a small park in Waverly, Iowa. The majority of them are from around that time of his life, and he remembers them crystal clearly despite how old they are. Now, they serve as a bittersweet reminder of what his life used to be before he learned of regret and betrayal and _pain_. When he dreams about his short-lived days of innocence in his sleep, they are the nights he rests soundly. And when the morning comes, he wakes up with a ghost of a smile on his face for a split second before he realizes that he must face the world all over again today and tomorrow and the day after that until it all ends. Then the happy memories slip away into an abyss to hide until another night while he fights to live the day.

 

* * *

 

Sometimes he lies.

After the betrayal began he realized what it meant to be every man for himself. He had always been a bright kid, no matter what his dad or Jacques thought. Not in the way of academics, maybe, but he had something of much more value. What he did know instinctively was what it took to survive. It only took a couple beatings for him to find that lying increased his chances of escaping unharmed. His dad only fell for the red herrings every once in a while, but when he was so little and unable to defend himself, he took every advantage he could get. Over time, his lying became much more believable. Other survival necessities joined the shelf as he grew older, from how to climb trees to the top to escape bullies at the orphanage to how to block out the noise that were meant to be words of hurt. He learned how to close his eyes and instantly make himself a private world where only he could visit, and where the pain on his body felt foreign. His parents, the orphanage, and then the carnival gave him the ideal circumstances for his talent to grow.

He lied so often. He lied to himself; he declare silently that he would be safe when he knew he wouldn't be, or that his father's next touch would be gentle. He told himself that he was worth the space he filled up in the universe, even when his heart believed that he wasn't.

 

* * *

 

Sometimes he trusts.

It takes a while to get back into the habit of relying on people after how his mentor and his own brother chose money (money, his mind numbly repeats) over him. Years pass, but he still feels the sting of hurt that has nestled its way under his skin and resided there ever since. The name Barney brings a sharp prick of emotion. He thought he had learned the truth then, that nobody, not even his kin were worth the effort it took to trust. At that time, he didn't know what torture he was subjecting himself to, and he welcomed the stone cold heart that replaced his scarred flesh. He thought he was strong enough to hold the weight of Atlas on his shoulders without anybody to help. By the time he realized his mistake, it was almost too late.

Almost is a saving grace, an angel sent from the heavens. It is what saved him from falling into a bottomless pit. Because there was an almost, he managed to break free of the chains he had wrapped himself in. Out of all the people to inspire him, it started with Iron Man. He watched the hero save dozens of people in one fell swoop, and it took a moment for the shock to settle in when he thought, _I want to do this too. I want to save people._ That was the beginning of his life as a hero, as a person who was significant and the end of the boy cowering in a closet to hide from the drunken rage of those he was supposed to trust. He restarted his life as an Avenger and met people with equally horrific origin stories. But though his friends gave him encouragement, they never bore the burden of the world with him, not even for a second.

He knows the exact moment he went from a man wandering the world, confused without his chains, to a man who could fly. She told him of the things he could do, but also held out a hand and pulled him out from under the crushing weight he had held for so long. Bobbi Morse was a magical woman, and one that made him wonder how he had survived for so long on his own. Everything about her was beautiful, from the way she made him look like a fool as she beat him in hand to hand combat to the way she never hesitated to speak her mind to the way she would whisper his name as she ran his hands through his hair when nightmares left him shaking. Her brutal honesty brought him back to earth when he lost himself among the stars.

 

* * *

 

Sometimes he cries.

He makes promises to himself sometimes. One was back when he was still at the orphanage. He had promised himself as he lay in his bed, covered in bruises from the bullies that Barney never protected him from, that he was going to be strong. He would stand up for himself, and he would never cry again. He can count the number of times he has broken it on one hand. He isn't ashamed - he knows now that it doesn't change his self worth.

The first was when Barney left him. Despite the stress their relationship was under, he had never dreamed that his older brother would leave him. He cried then, alone in the night under the dark sky. The tears hadn't stopped and he kept thinking, _weak, weak, **weak** ,_ but the quiet sobs racking his chest refused to stop. He felt grief, disappointment, guilt, anything but rage. The boy - because that was what he should have been, at the age of 14 - blamed himself.

The second was different - more controlled. He was an Avenger, living in the mansion with his own private room. After a particularly devastating battle, a fact that never appeared to him before struck him hard as he bandaged his wounds in his quarters. He was human. Plain. The rest of the team had something that made them different. A couple tears streamed down his face, but he brushed them away and told himself that he was as good as any of them.

The third was grief. Sadness. Regret. Like the first, anger toward himself. He held Bobbi - his wife - in his arms as she lay dying because of a blow she took for him. For the first time, he ignored what others might think of him and made no attempt to hide the endless tears. Words caught his throat, like _why_ and _please don't leave me_ and _I'm sorry (oh darling, I am)_. He held her tenderly and fiercely at the same time, trying to protect her and keep her there simultaneously. He apologized over and over again even though she said she forgave, because once he open the floodgates of words, they wouldn't close. Her body turned cold and turned to ash. Only Steve's gentle touch reminded him of his surroundings and he stood up shakily, numbly. Steve gave him a shoulder to lean against like the gentleman he was, but nobody saves the saviors, and he went back to fighting for the world, even though it felt so empty.

The fourth wasn't so much of crying as much as it was screaming until his voice broke. It was Barney, back from the dead as a villain. His brother held a drawn arrow to his chest. He called himself Trickshot, after one of their mentors from the carnival. A battle to the death, Barney said, and it was then that he began to wonder if his quickly failing eyesight was so bad after all. Oncoming blindness, the fuzziness of the world could become his refuge, his filter. Once Barney left through an open window, he had clenched his fists and struggled to steady his breath. He screamed into his hoodie and he hardly cared if Barney was still within hearing range. He screamed until his head spun and his vision swam. Then he took out a bottle of scotch and collapsed on his couch, drowning himself in the warm embrace of alcohol until he no longer remembered his name. How he had hated his father for his alcoholism. He understands a little now, how it numbs the sharp edges of pain a little.

The most recent - he hardly thinks that it will be the last - was Bobbi's return. He recalls how his heart pounded in his chest at the sight of her, stepping off the alien ship. Then a man came out behind her, and it was him. It was him, except that there couldn't be two of them and he knew that he was genuine. He broke his rule - never kill - and killed the identical man because how dare he? And then Bobbi turned out to be an alien as well and he forgot his rule completely when the white hot rage washed over him. He would kill them all, because he dare they? How dare they impersonate her, make him hope so hard that she was alive, and then rip it from his chest? He fought the war against the aliens with Bobbi on his mind. It was for her that he killed the queen of Skrulls. And then the battle was over and he was wiping blood from his face and the full brunt of the pain finally hit him head on. That was when the first silent tear slipped. Then there was a call that there were prisoners, and that he knew one of them. He didn't let himself hope, but he went anyway. She stepped into the light with every ounce of grace that he remembered and he said words that he can't remember. The only thing he knew was that he was holding her in his arms again, and she was alive. By some crazy turn of events, she had been kidnapped by shape shifting aliens planning an invasion on earth and she was _alive._ He didn't let go and neither did she, so he held her tightly, as if she might turn into ash again at any moment, and cried for the first time in decades because he was happy. Truly, unconditionally happy.

Sometimes he laughs,

Sometimes he lies;

Sometimes he trust,

And sometimes he cries.

His life is a cycle that is forever repeating. This is the ballad of Clinton Francis Barton.


End file.
